


Evening at War

by Kalael



Category: Life Class
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-24
Updated: 2012-10-24
Packaged: 2017-11-16 23:11:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/544863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalael/pseuds/Kalael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A look at Paul and Lewis during their time based at the abandoned schoolhouse.  Some implied feelings but nothing concrete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Evening at War

It sounded like thunder and the schoolhouse shook, clouds of dust and spiders falling from the rafters and into the ink drying on wrinkled pages of letters. Paul pulled a blanket over his head but kept his eyes open. There were holes in the weaving and the lamplight looked like dying yellow stars flickering just outside.

“We’ll have a long shift.” He said. A dark shadow moved over him and the blanket was lifted by a freckled hand.

“It’ll be days.” Lewis agreed, shaking the blanket. Bits of wood that looked like bone fragments fell to the floor.

“Better write your mum’s letters now, I doubt you’ll be seeing much ink or paper in the ambulance. Can’t believe you write her every day, I hardly write Elinor once a week.” Paul blew on the ink of his own letter but the dust remained in a thin layer, dried into the words.

“I love my mum. She worries.”

“Elinor worries.” But you don’t love her; it hung between them without being said. Lewis looked away first and the shadows playing over the freckles on his face made him look exotic. Paul was struck by the way Lewis seemed almost inhuman, shocking red hair and spotted skin. He stared down at his hands instead and was reminded of mortality. His fingernails had cracked and his knuckles were dry, scabbing where they had split.

“I’ll keep the lamp on a bit longer, if you don’t mind.” Paul glanced up and saw that Lewis was watching him, freckled blue eyes staring intently as though he expected Paul to suddenly take flight from the room.

“I don’t mind.” They stared longer, and just as Paul had gathered the courage to speak Lewis stood up and began to put his writing materials away. Paul didn’t know what it was he’d wanted to say, so he pulled out the pad of paper that passed as his sketchbook and reached for the charcoal. He didn’t mind that Lewis watched him draw now. It had become almost a comfort, as though it were Professor Tonks standing behind him. A ghost rather than a man, a ghost with nothing to say. Lewis never said a word about the drawings, even when they had become sketches of him.

They needed to conserve oil, so Paul only finished half his sketch before setting his paper aside. “Let’s go to bed.” He said, and it sounded far more intimate than he’d meant it to. Lewis didn’t respond right away and Paul had to stare at his hands again, Lewis' gaze too searching, too invasive.

“Alright.” The word was drawn out slowly and Paul only looked up from his hands once the light went out. In pitch black there was only the sound of rustling clothes, uniforms falling to the floor in heaps that wouldn’t be disturbed till morning. Paul nearly expected another body to slide into bed beside him, but instead mattress springs creaked across the room. They laid in silence, the bombs in the distance having quieted. The tension in the air hadn’t relaxed and Paul found himself unable to sleep.

“Goodnight, Lewis.” There was no response for a long time. Lewis turned on his bed and they faced each other, eyes adjusting to small slits of pale moonlight peering through heavy curtains.

“Goodnight, Paul.”

**Author's Note:**

> Paul and Lewis have a fascinating relationship and it can be taken in many different ways, romantica or platonic, sexual or non-sexual. I chose to try out sexual tension between the two and I'm not sure if it was too subtle or too strong. I'm pleased with it either way.


End file.
